


watching and whispering

by swanfairie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25337686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanfairie/pseuds/swanfairie
Summary: a monologue from the pov of my original character, cerulean.





	watching and whispering

Do I make you uncomfortable?

Do I sit too close, or too far away? Do I talk too much, or not enough? Do I seem too excited, too empathetic, or neither of those things at all? Do you see me as normal?

You don't have to answer. I know what you think of me already. Do you remember me staring from across the classroom? Watching, listening, to everything I could, because nobody would talk to me?

Do you think I'm crazy? You don't have to answer that one, either, you've already told me. You're leaning back in your seat ever so slightly. You're gripping the armrests. Every now and then, your eyes flick over to someone else in the room. You're uneasy.

Good. That's what you deserve.

I want you to close your eyes and imagine something. Close your eyes. No peeking. I'll know if you look. I always know when people are looking at me.

Now, imagine being in a room full of people who you don't know very well. Half-strangers. You don't know how much they know about you, or where you're from. You don't know if they know all the little secrets you have. Can you feel it? Can you feel that special kind of fear?

Now they're watching you. Only for a moment at a time, then they turn back to their friends, but in such a way that there's always a pair of eyes on you. Constantly watching you, and the whispers carry further than they realise. You hear little snippets of what they think of you, things like "weird," and "crazy," and "freak."

Just little whispers, but they carry far, and they stick. They like to burrow into your skin, however thick you think it is, and they nest in that little empty part of your ribcage just below your heart. Can you feel them in there? Shifting and twisting and leaking into your veins?

Those little whispered words crawl their way into your heart and your head and they change the way you think and soon they're all that's in your mind, soon they're all you can hear, and soon after that you start to believe them.

You begin to search for someone to trust. A shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, but all you find are watching eyes and whispering mouths. Every way you turn, watching and whispering, watching and whispering, until one day something shifts.

Perhaps you are offered the gift. Perhaps you stumble into it. No matter what, it is welcome. It will take your fear away, and replace it with something better. It will twist those whispered words into something you wear as a badge of honour. It's truly an offer you can't refuse.

So you take your gift, and you cherish it, and you let yourself be weird, you let yourself act crazy, you smile when they tell you you're a freak, because you're proud of your little secrets, now, you're proud and unafraid. How could those words ever be something that hurt you? Every time you hear them you can't help but grin.

Open your eyes. Open them and look at me. Wasn't that interesting? Wasn't that insightful? Wasn't that fun? I think it was.


End file.
